


The Winter Solpurr Goes Into Heat

by seinmit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Migratory Bucky Fandom, ねこあつめ | Neko Atsume: Kitty Collector
Genre: Barbed Penis, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Cat Brock Rumlow, Cat Bucky Barnes, Catboys & Catgirls, Deeply Stupid Puns, Extremely Dubious Consent, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22241101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/pseuds/seinmit
Summary: The Winter Solpurr goes into heat while he's on the run from HYDRA. He finds a nice warm cushion in a stranger's backyard and it's there that Brock Rumeow finds him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47
Collections: Exchanges After Dark Birthday Bash 2020





	The Winter Solpurr Goes Into Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gammarad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gammarad/gifts).



> I feel compelled to add that this is an AU where Rumlow doesn't have a building dropped on him, but are we really going to quibble about canon compliance with this? Go read the tags again.

The Winter Solpurr was warm for the first time in a long time. He had found himself a heated cushion, carelessly left on someone’s porch and big enough for a catboy to curl-up on and luxuriate. At first, he was wary—this could be some kind of obscure trap, even though the cheerful little garden filled with toys and nice places to sit didn’t seem like HYDRA’s style. Before long, though, the steady heat sunk into his bones and sent lassitude throughout his entire body, his tail curling lazily around him. It was blood-hot without any of the mess and it was effortless to press his cheek into the soft surface and drift into a doze. 

He had been running from HYDRA ever since the fall of the helicarriers, still in the tatters of his tac-gear. His fur was manky and still stank of the Potomac. He was only now able to get his thoughts into enough order to think at all and it was still difficult—he kept getting distracted, his nose twitching with new scents or now, the lovely tactile sensation of velvet against his skin. He liked this pillow—he liked it a lot. He found himself rubbing his cheek against it, over and over, the fabric soothing against the fine light fur that covered his face. His purr welled up from deep in his chest, but it croaked on the way out. Since when had he purred? He couldn’t remember the last time. It was this wonderful heat. It was saturating his entire body, making him sweat—which was amazing in itself, he would happily sweat all sorts of things out of his body. 

He found himself kneading the pillow, claws popping out of the knuckles of both his flesh and metal hands. The metal was razed sharp, enough that the little contact didn’t prick and snag like the organic claws, but sliced right through, revealing padding. That sent a pang of loss through him, but he closed his eyes, focused on the sensation. 

Before long, the heat got stronger. Maybe he turned the internals of the cushion up somehow because he was definitely warming up. He felt a flush rise up all over his skin and a sweat starting soak his already matted fur. It was a lot—having risen right up out of comforting and into restlessness, riling him up, making him start to call out helplessly in short, sharp howls. 

He didn’t know who he was calling for and he didn’t entirely understand why, but his body was begging him to make noise, and he was used to following orders. His back ached and he stretched, arching and wriggling to try to work whatever it was out—it was different than the normal spinal pain from the heavy metal arm, but it was just as insistent and impossible to ignore. 

Some small part of his brain remembered that he was hiding, that he was in a stranger’s backyard and that HYDRA was still looking for him—but it was more important that he make the noise. He felt this unquenchable need to announce himself, to let everyone know that he was here and that he wanted—something. He wasn’t sure what, not exactly, but he wanted it. 

He was just dripping sweat, so quickly. He could feel the liquid on the back of his neck, in his armpits and running in startling rivulets down his thighs—he felt slippery, there, like his insides were melting out, and maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop yelling. His tail was no longer relaxed, not like it had been maybe twenty minutes before, but lashing fiercely from side to side behind him. 

The tattered remains of his body-armor itched uncomfortably against his skin, so much that he imagined it rubbing awful sores in the thin layer of fine soft fur. And it was so fucking _hot_ He fumbled with the clasps and latches, trying to push it off, but he couldn’t seem to get his claws to retract, so it ended up being easier to slice through it with the metal. He misjudged, just a little, and snarled at the fierce line of pain where he sliced into his own skin. At the same time, somehow, that felt good too—it drove him higher, arching his hips back up into nothing, waiting for something. 

"I knew I’d find you, kitten," he heard, from over the fence. It was Rumeow and the sound of his growling voice, clearly pushed through his un-retracted fangs, should have been enough to send the Solpurr running. But he smelled intoxicating, even from this distance—the Solpurr kept scenting the air, curling his upper lip, trying to gulp it in. He looked over his shoulder, ears twitching, and saw Rumeow hop the fence and easily land on all fours. 

He stalked toward the Solpurr and the Solpurr snarled, but didn’t move. As he got closer, the Solpurr found his vocalization get more desperate, more insistent. He was ordering Rumeow, for once—but when the other cat got close, the Solpurr reached out to try and slash him across the face. 

Rumeow dodged the half-hearted attack and all-but-tackled the Solpurr, clamping his fangs down in his scruff. The Solpurr felt that throughout his whole body, sharp tingling underneath all his skin and it made him spread his thighs. His tail moved out of the way of its own accord, the very tip insistently flicking. The rest of his body was pliant, however, almost liquid—he was crouched low to the ground and he realized, belatedly, that his cock was hard, rubbing insistently against the pillow. 

Rumeow’s hand reached out and grabbed the base of the Solpurr’s tail, hard enough to send a jolt of real pain up his spine, spurring him to yowl. 

"Quiet," Rumeow growled in his ear and the Solpurr hissed in response. Memories jostled underneath the urgency of his body, horrified at his level of insolence—but Rumeow was tolerating it far more than he normally would. He felt the sharp pinpricks of Rumeow’s claws rip off the base of his pants and the rush of air was enough to make him whimper. 

He pressed back and up into him, jerking his hips in a preemptive frantic movement. He was asking for something, begging for it—and when he felt the blunt head of something against his hole, he knew exactly it was this he needed. The moment that Rumeow’s cock forced its way into his body, he felt the sensation ripple through every part of him, replacing the inferno of need with a warm, sweet satisfaction. He mewled, much quieter now but still unable to contain these vocalizations. It was good—it was so fucking good, he wasn’t sure he had felt this good in a long time. 

His claws tear even deeper into the cushion that had been so warm, so nice, leaving it in shreds underneath him. It was everything he didn’t know he wanted—

But then it fucking _hurt_ , deep inside himself, like Rumeow had replaced his cock with a knife. The Solpurr yowled at the top of his lungs, turning to try to bite at him, to try to get him off—but Rumeow snarled gutturally around his mouthful of the Solpurr’s scruff and didn’t let him go. The Solpurr was caught between the urgent need to get him off and to _get off_ , his cock still hard against the pillow even though there was that horrible tearing feeling inside. Rumeow was ripping him up and the Solpurr hated it, but he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to escape, but he didn’t try to go. He was familiar with that sort of indecision, but never before had it had this blissful urgency to it. 

His hips humped helplessly against the pillow, his mouth open and panting, and finally—just as Rumeow pulled out—he came, a wash of pleasure zipping up his spinal-cord. 

"Now that I’ve bred you, kitten, let's return you to your owners," Rumeow said—but now that he was bred, the Solpurr didn’t feel any need to be compliant. He hissed and jerked away, reaching behind him to slash bright lines of blood on Rumeow’s face. Rumeow howled in response, his own claws unsheathing. 

And then the door opened, a person emerging--the Solpurr wouldn’t have paid a whit of attention to them, as it was obvious they were no physical threat at a glance—but then a cold spurt of water hit him in the face. She had a spray bottle, apparently, and both the Solpurr and Rumeow jumped, hair standing on end, when they got doused. 

The Solpurr took this opportunity and climbed right up the side of the house, jumping from this roof to the next—now that he had gotten what he needed out of Rumeow, he was going to keep running.


End file.
